Unconventional Suitors 02 - Her Unconventional Hero (6 page)

“No more confusing than you, my lord,” she snapped childishly.

Ignoring her petulance, his voice turned warm. “Instruct your cook to make you a hot milk posset before you retire to bed. It will help improve your quality of sleep immensely.”

“I may consider it.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” he scolded gently.

Before Adel could respond, the longest waltz in the history of waltzes finally came to a blessed end. The minute Lord Straton began escorting her from the floor, she asked anxiously, “What is the lady’s name?”

“Which lady?” he asked with a mock ignorance.

Adel wanted to hit him, but somehow managed to refrain. “Tell me before I step on your foot.”

Lord Straton laughed. “I’m learning a great many things about you this night—you have a penchant for foul language and for violence. I shouldn’t be surprised by anything you do, but I find that I am.”

“You forgot to mention my unpleasant appearance.”

Lord Straton pulled her to halt, turning quizzical eyes upon her. “Your unpleasant appearance?”

One hand went up to her face. “Yes. Have you already forgotten the dark circles under my eyes that you were so critical of?”

“You misinterpret my concern if you take it to mean that I was being critical of your appearance in any way. Quite the opposite is true, for I find your appearance to be quite pleasing. I was merely making conversation.”

In an effort to ignore the pleasure his compliment produced, she offered him some advice, “Do yourself a favor and please refrain from ever mentioning a lady’s poor appearance during polite conversation again. Most will not take it as well as I.”

“If that was taking an imagined insult well, I dread seeing how you handle one in poor fashion.”

Closing her eyes and exhaling in irritation, she said firmly, “Just tell me the lady’s name. I kept my end of the bargain, now you would do well to keep yours.”

“And if I do not?”

“You would do well not to try my patience any further.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“I assure you, my lord, it is not. Please, just tell me her name.”

Lord Straton stared at her as if he were weighing whether or not he should tell her in his mind. She felt as if her already-worn patience was about to vanish completely when he finally said, “Her name is Lady Grace.”

Adel couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her face. “Thank you,” she replied as she turned to leave.

“Wait,” Lord Straton called after her. “Why do you want to know her name?”

“I was curious was all,” she vaguely replied.

“Curious about your perceived competition?”

Adel turned once more to face him, the glee she felt at learning the mystery woman’s name evaporating as quickly as it had come. “Why do you insist on constantly goading me? You are the most irritating man I have ever met.”

Deciding she would not wait around for an answer, Adel turned on her heel and fled, for no explanation he could give her would satisfy.

Griffin sat in a comfortable leather chair in Benedict’s study, one booted foot propped up on his thigh, as he reclined casually. Benedict was sitting behind his desk, several of the day’s papers stacked before him.

“Have you come to share the announcement of your engagement with me?” Benedict inquired, his eyes scanning the paper in front of him.

“On the contrary. I came to tell you that Lady Adel refused my pursuit.”

Benedict looked at him over the paper, “That is not news-worthy, for she has been refusing your pursuit all season long.”

Griffin bristled. “I have not been pursuing her the entire season.” Benedict gave him a disbelieving look. “I asked her to wed me the other evening, and she boldly told me she would not. I came to tell you that you must pick another lady for me to wed.”

Laying the papers aside, Benedict rose and retrieved a decanter of brandy and two glasses. He poured a measure into both, handing one to Griffin before leaning casually against the edge of his desk and saying, “I suggest you try harder.”

“Blast it, man, I have tried. She is not interested in my affections.”

“It’s only been a matter of days since you learned that you were to wed her. What have you done to woo her during that time?” Benedict watched as Griffin tugged nervously at his coat sleeves. “Tell me what you have done,” he urged.

“I’ve danced with her,” Griffin answered lamely.

“Oh, you have? Well, then I do not understand why she hasn’t fallen all over you and been eager to become your wife. Surely she must know that if a gentleman dances with her that means he wishes to wed her. Pshaw!” Benedict spat in disgust.

“Look,” Griffin said as he leaned forward. “I’m not sure what else I can do. You do not wish me to write her a poem, do you?”

Benedict thought back to the horrendous poem his friends had penned for him to deliver to Gillian and shuddered. “No, you must refrain from doing that, for surely that would only push her further away. What you need to do is show her your sensitive side.”

Griffin snorted, “I do not have a sensitive side.”

“Well you better develop one soon or it is quite possible that you may never convince her to marry you.”

Griffin grumbled as he grabbed
The Morning Post
from the desk and snapped it open. “I cannot very well force her to marry me. How many times do I have to get rejected by her before you are convinced that we do not suit and agree to pick another lady to be my wife?”

Benedict was thoughtful for a moment. “I would be willing to agree upon ten times.”

“Ten times!” Griffin bellowed. “You take me for a fool if you think I would let myself be rejected ten times by the same woman. I will appear desperate.”

“Aren’t you though?”

Running one hand through his hair, he exhaled, “I rue the day I ever came up with that blasted bet.”

“I felt that way once as well, but as soon as I learned how satisfying the reward was, I couldn’t help but be grateful that you issued the wager. Gillian’s love is the greatest prize I could ever have won. If you let your blasted guard down for even a second, you’d see that you need someone, that you need Lady Adel.”

“That is where you are wrong. I do not need anyone, least of all a wife.”

“Well then, how do you expect to produce that heir you will eventually need?”

Griffin’s dark eyebrows went together in a scowl. Benedict had a point, but he wasn’t about to concede that to him. It was inevitable that his father, the Earl of Westingham would eventually pass on, leaving him the new earl, with the responsibility to provide an heir so that the title could remain in the family, but he didn’t like thinking about his future responsibilities, and he most definitely did not like thinking about his father.

“I suggest you concentrate on producing your own heir,” he replied as he casually thumbed through the pages of
The Morning Post
until he found the scandal sheet. His eyes, of their own accord, began scanning the page, only semi-interested in the words that were printed.

“Do not concern yourself with that, for I can assure you that much time and energy has indeed been given to the cause.”

“Of course there has,” Griffin said with a wicked grin while an odd feeling of envy pierced him completely out of nowhere. He forced himself to concentrate even more on the words in front of him to avoid having to analyze the foreign emotion.

His eyes settled upon the popular column by Mrs. Tiddlyswan and began reading part way down the page:
Let it be known that Lady Grace has been blackmailing Lord Crestin for some time. Though it is unclear as to why, this author is intent on finding out.

Griffin stopped reading. Lady Grace? His mind instantly went back to Lady Adel and her eagerness to learn the woman’s name. Could it be possible that she was the one who had reported this piece of damning information to Mrs. Tiddlyswan? Griffin was thoughtful for a moment before deciding that it had to be a coincidence, for surely she wouldn’t be so foolish as to involve herself in such scandal.

He laid the paper in his lap when Benedict began speaking, trying to focus on his words. “You have probably heard by now that Marcus left for Brackingham Abbey?”

“I had heard that he was considering the possibility. He’s hoping to buy himself some extra time before you choose his bride.”

“Yes, that is part of it. I also think part of his reason was to go and try to convince his father to discourage Warren’s pursuit of Miss Graham. He’s furious that I chose his sister for Warren.”

“I can’t say that I blame him. What were you thinking? You knew he’d be livid. And how do you expect Warren to feel about marrying someone who is practically a sister to him?”

Benedict steepled his hands together, resting his chin on his fingers. “I don’t believe that Warren views her as merely a sister.”

Griffin scoffed. “How could he not? He has known her since she was in the schoolroom, her hair still in braids. Besides, she is nearly eight years his junior.”

“So is my wife, and Lady Adel is seven years your junior. Age is just a number, Griffin.”

“Perhaps. I suppose I should be grateful that at the very least, you did not choose someone for me who is practically family.”

“Precisely. You should be infinitely grateful. And I think that Marcus will come around eventually. When he sees how happy they will be together, he will have to admit that my matchmaking skills are superb.”

“Do not count your chickens before they are hatched. You do not have any successes as of yet.”

“Nor will I, if you plan on hanging around my study all day instead of calling on your intended.” Benedict’s eyes scanned the clock sitting on the mantel. “I suggest you go call on Lady Adel while you still have time.”

Griffin rose from the chair, replacing the paper on the desk. “If you insist.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Griffin chose to walk to Lady Adel’s townhouse at St. James’s Square, since it wasn’t far from Benedict’s own residence. He used the time alone to think about his predicament. He felt utterly foolish continuing his pursuit of the chit when she had clearly rejected him more than once.

The minute the butler led him into the parlor decorated in shades of blue, he regretted showing up empty handed. Several bouquets of flowers decorated the room, indicating the amount of callers the two sisters had accepted so far. He wanted to kick himself for not being more thoughtful.

He bowed before Aunt Tabitha and Lady Katherine before allowing his eyes to settle on Lady Adel. A sliver of sun filtered in from the window behind her, illuminating her auburn hair, making it appear a vibrant reddish hue. His eyes scanned her face and noticed that the dark smudges under her eyes had all but disappeared.

He bowed before her and rose. “I take it you had your cook prepare you a posset?”

“I might have,” she answered vaguely, seemingly uninterested in his visit.

Griffin suddenly felt the inquiring eyes of Aunt Tabitha and Lady Katherine upon him, and he felt awkward. He wanted to speak to her about Mrs. Tiddlyswan’s gossip column and gauge her reaction, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. Instead, he blurted out, “Would you like to go riding with me in Hyde Park?”

“Right now?” she asked him, a curious look on her face.

Griffin remembered that his carriage was still parked at Benedict’s and quickly replied, “I will come for you in a quarter of an hour.”

Lady Adel glanced towards her aunt, her face unreadable. No doubt she was hoping that her aunt would refuse her permission, but thankfully, she did not.

“You better send your maid to fetch your pelisse. I would hate for you to catch a chill,” Aunt Tabitha said by way of response.

Lady Adel turned towards him hesitantly. “I will be ready soon.”

Griffin said his goodbyes and left quickly. He knew he would have to walk swiftly if he wished to get back to Benedict’s and retrieve his carriage in time to not keep Lady Adel waiting. He desperately hoped that their ride would not lead to another uncomfortable encounter but that it could be pleasant for the both of them.

By the time he returned to the Desmond’s townhouse, Lady Adel was waiting for him adorned in a blue and white striped pelisse with a fetching bonnet perched atop her head. He offered her his arm and led her to his carriage where he helped her alight before joining her on the seat.

As soon as his driver had pulled away from the curb, he turned to her and said, “I spent some time scanning
The Morning Post
this morning,” then waited to observe her reaction. Her face remained impassive so he continued. “I don’t usually read the scandal sheets, but a certain name happened to catch my eye.”

“Oh?” she inquired as calmly and unaffected as could be. “Who’s name would that be, my lord?”

“Lady Grace,” he stated as he watched her shrewdly for any reaction at all. Her green eyes didn’t even blink. Her face betrayed no reaction whatsoever.

After a moment, she turned to gaze out the side of the carriage. “I myself do not pay much heed to the scandal sheets. There is enough gossip being passed around London’s drawing rooms that I find I do not need to seek it out in the papers as well.”

Griffin felt relief at her words, convinced that she had no part in the gossip printed about Lady Grace. Not that he had ever truly believed she would have done something so ludicrous, but it was good to be reassured nonetheless.

***

Adel hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath until she released it in a long, slow huff. She sincerely hoped that Lord Straton would not be able to tell how her heart was racing at his words. She had underestimated his astuteness. Perhaps he was more observant than she gave him credit for. She would have to be much more careful in the future when trying to obtain her information. She hoped he was convinced by her indifference to the conversation.

She was infinitely relieved when he finally said, “I do not care much for gossip myself.”

Giving him a shy smile she asked, if only to change the subject. “Tell me about your family, Lord Straton.”

“My family?” he exhaled slowly as he casually reclined against the seat.